The Best Man
by asteroidbuckle
Summary: Josh is getting married. Drake's not sure he's happy about it. Josh/Mindy, Drake/Josh
1. He Does, But I Don't

**Title:** The Best Man  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** T/PG-13  
**Warnings:** bad words, slash  
**Pairings:** Josh/Mindy, Drake/Josh

**Author's Note: **Just what I need - another story to worry about. However, this one began as kind of a challenge to myself. It's based on a prompt from a book I bought called _The Pocket Muse._ It's full of things to get your creative juices flowing and the one I chose involved using the following words in a paragraph (or in this case, story): homeland, flummoxed, uncles, fanfare, last rites, and tomcat. This is the result. And of course, because I like to punish myself, I've left it so that I have to continue. Sigh. Anyway, I hope you like it. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 1: He Does, But I Don't

The music started, sounding a little tinny coming through the speakers of the CD player in the corner, and the few people actually present – apparently the onslaught of relatives would officially start that afternoon, beginning with Aunt Katherine, who, it seemed, was never going to die – stood as one to gaze upon the bride-to-be, who stood in the entrance to the sanctuary clutching the rigid arm of her rigid father who looked relieved, at least to Drake, to finally be giving his daughter away.

Drake was smiling so big, he thought his ears would meet behind his head, and wouldn't that be something. He actually tried to picture in his mind what that would look like and struggled to swallow down the sudden burst of giggles that erupted from his throat.

As it was, the little squeaking sound that came out instead was apparently loud enough to be heard, because out of the corner of his eye he saw two of Mindy's uncles glaring at him from beneath matching sets of bushy gray caterpillar eyebrows.

Clearing his throat discreetly behind his hand, Drake tried to refocus.

Mindy and her father started walking down the aisle. The closer they got, the more Drake had to really concentrate on not rolling his eyes when he saw the word "Bride" across the front of her shirt in silver rhinestones. It was almost as nauseating as the "Groom" written across Josh's shirt. Except when he'd seen that, he at least had had the luxury of laughing until his eyes watered.

If he did that now, he had no doubt Mindy would rip his arm off and beat him with it and go back to the rehearsal without even missing a step. If Mindy'd had her way, he wouldn't have been invited at all, he was sure of it. But Josh had asked him to be his best man and Drake had promised Josh he would behave.

Who needed a rehearsal, anyway? All you did was get dressed up, walk down the aisle, and recite a few things. Any idiot could do it. He didn't get all the fanfare.

Of course, Mindy had insisted and Josh had done his usual – agreed with everything she said. It was just easier that way.

Mindy finally made it to the front, the wattage of her smile darkening just a little when her eyes fell on him for a second. But then her eyes flitted away, focusing on his brother, and he knew he'd been dismissed, forgotten like so much lint.

It was just as well. This wasn't his show, anyway. It was all for Josh, which is what he kept telling himself. It didn't matter that Drake believed with all his heart that his brother was making the biggest mistake of his life. It didn't matter that the mere thought of being related to that creature made him want to hurl (he kept imagining Christmas Day, the happy couple cozied up on the couch in matching footie pajamas). All that mattered was that Josh was happy. Really.

So when Josh asked him to be his best man, he had readily accepted and had jumped into the job feet first. He'd gone with Josh to get the tuxes. He'd arranged for transportation to and from the airport for the honeymoon (which was as far as he'd allowed himself to think about _that_). But mostly, he'd planned a killer bachelor party complete with copious amounts of booze, big-breasted strippers, and not a few half-serious pleas for Josh to reconsider – all of which Josh had dismissed with a tipsy chuckle.

His other duties (besides making sure Josh didn't tip over in the next few minutes; the man could not hold his liquor, to be sure)? _Attend the rehearsal. _Okay, he was doing that now. Check. _And the rehearsal dinner. _Inwardly, he groaned at the prospect. Two hours of forced cheer with the future in-laws from hell, as far as he was concerned, eating food from the native homeland of the Crenshaw family ancestors. (Could be interesting; Drake had never eaten Martian food before.) _Sign the marriage license. _He could manage that; after all, he'd been signing autographs since high school. _Dance with the maid of honor. _He gazed across the aisle to the row of Mindy's friends, each of whom were wearing identical pink shirts and short, white skirts. He scanned the row of women until he found the one whose shirt said "Maid of Honor" in the same nauseating rhinestones. (He'd put his foot down about wearing the "Best Man" shirt Josh offered him. No way.) Not bad, he thought. Pretty enough. And she had nice legs – smooth and tan and completely capable of wrapping around him.

_Stop._ She was apparently Mindy's roommate from college or something. Or her cousin. He couldn't remember. At any rate, he definitely shouldn't be thinking about _that_ right now. But he'd been in town for nearly three weeks helping Josh with wedding stuff and in all that time he hadn't gotten laid, surprisingly. Not even by the red-headed stripper with boobs the size of cantaloupes who had given him a lap dance last night at Josh's party.

He felt like a tomcat, stalking the neighborhood for a hot little Persian.

The minister was talking. Something about love and how it was a gift. How marriage was a sacred trust.

Blah, blah, blah.

He looked at the happy couple, but could only see Mindy's face since Josh's back was turned to him. There were tears in her eyes and she seemed to be gazing adoringly at his brother.

So there is at least a tiny bit of softness in that cold, black heart, Drake thought. She loves Josh. She can't be all bad.

Except a second later, her face seemed to morph into something straight out of a horror movie and he actually felt himself flinch.

"This is where you'd recite your vows," the minister said.

"More like last rites," Drake muttered and felt the uncles staring at him again. Mindy didn't seem to notice, thankfully. He was off the hook. Unless, of course, she was planning on sucking his brain out through his ear when he was sleeping later.

"Are you using the traditional vows or do you have your own?" the minister said.

"We've written our own," Josh answered. Drake stifled a groan. He'd already heard them; Josh had recited a dozen different versions to him already, asking for his advice on what to say.

"Say, 'I've changed my mind'," Drake had told him, only half-joking. "Say, 'I don't know what I was thinking.' "

"Drake, come on," Josh had said, smiling. "I'm serious. These have to be perfect and you're better at this than I am."

"Getting married?"

"Putting words together. You do it for a living, remember?" Then Josh had given him The Look and Drake had caved.

His stomach still hurt from all the sweetness.

* * *

Drake did his best to calm a very flummoxed Josh right before the ceremony started, finally resorting to grabbing Josh by his oversized head and forcing him to look into his eyes. That seemed to work and Drake held on until his brother's breathing slowed to nearly normal.

"Dude, relax," he said. "Try not to think about the fact that today is the first day of the end of your life."

Josh cracked a smile then, the lopsided one that had always meant he and Drake were on the same wavelength. "I love her, Drake," he said. "I really do."

Drake nodded, his throat suddenly tight. "I know," he said, his voice rough, and let his fingers slide away from Josh's face.

He watched as Josh closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then another. Then his eyes flew open and Drake answered his question before Josh could even ask it.

"I've got the ring," he said, wiggling his left pinky finger in the air between them.

Josh visibly relaxed. "Good." Then a slow smile spread across his face. "I had to talk her into letting you hold it," he said. "She wanted Rosie to carry it."

Drake smirked. "It's nice to know a Shih Tzu is considered more capable than I am," he said.

"Well, she does know commands in three languages. And she can balance a ball on her nose," Josh explained.

Drake snorted. "She pissed on my foot."

"What can I say? She's a great judge of character." Josh laughed, then met Drake's eyes. Drake looked away.

"We should get out there," he muttered. "You know, before they think you've changed your mind." He walked to the door and stopped, his hand on the knob as he threw a look over his shoulder. "You haven't changed your mind, have you?" he asked, a tinge of hope in his voice.

Josh shook his head. "Not a chance."

Drake shrugged. "Here we go, then," he said, opening the door. "Dead man walking."

Five minutes later, Mindy was walking down the aisle and Drake tried not to think about what it meant exactly that her dress wasn't white.

When her father placed her hand in Josh's, Drake turned his gaze away and met the eyes of Tan Legs across the aisle. She smiled at him and he nodded, then looked upwards at the intricate stained glass.

He heard the soft, solemn voice of the minister start to speak and felt suddenly uncomfortable in his monkey suit.

He sighed. At least there would be cake.

* * *

When the minister uttered the proverbial, "Speak now or forever hold your peace," well, Drake didn't hold his peace. He didn't mean to do it. Really. It just sorta came out.

So much for cake.

* * *

_Review are always appreciated. Thank you._


	2. The End of the World As We Know It

**Title:** The Best Man  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** T/PG-13  
**Warnings:** bad words, slash  
**Pairings:** Josh/Mindy, Drake/Josh

**Author's Note: **Yes, I borrowed the chapter title from REM. No, this chapter has nothing to do with the song. Oh, and it's a litte angsty. But hey, coming from me, what else is new? Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 2: The End of the World As We Know It

_At least he's started breathing again_, Drake thought, as he stared at the rise and fall of Josh's chest. He made a conscious effort not to rub his arm where Josh had grabbed him and dragged him from the sanctuary a few moments before.

Funny. It was the same room they had been in before the wedding started, except now it felt smaller somehow, like there wasn't enough air. And the way Josh was sucking it up in big gulps, they'd probably run out soon. Someone should crack a window.

He probably shouldn't say anything. But, as usual, he couldn't help himself. "Josh."

Josh flinched – _flinched _– at the sound of Drake's voice and the movement only confirmed what Drake already knew: He'd really fucked up this time. "Man, look. I-I don't know what–"

"You promised me, Drake," Josh said and the eyes he turned on Drake contained a mixture of emotions Drake couldn't read. It scared him.

"I know," he said. "I know, man. And I'm sorry. Let's just forget I said anything, okay?" He could salvage this. Feigning confidence, he bet all his chips on his ability to talk himself out of anything. He took a step towards Josh and pretended he didn't just see Josh take a step back.

"Look," he said again, keeping his voice light. "We'll go back out there like this never happened and you'll say 'I do' and you and The Crea…Mindy will ride off into the sunset in the fully stocked limo I arranged for you."

Josh just looked at him and the heat behind the stare made a thin sheen of sweat break out on Drake's palms. He looked up at the window behind Josh's head and wondered if he could fit through it.

Trying on his best self-deprecating grin, he forged ahead. "We'll tell 'em I've got that syndrome. Barrette's. Or something. I couldn't help what I was saying."

There was a pause before Josh finally said, "Tourette's."

"Huh?" Then, getting it, "Whatever." He opened his hands. "The point is, we can fix this. _I_ can fix this. It'll be alright."

But Josh was shaking his head. "You promised," he said again.

_Shit._ "I know. I _know,_ for Christ's sake. You don't have to keep reminding me." Frustration was making his shoulders tight and he really, really wanted to rip off his stupid bow tie – a real one, not one of those hook-around-the-neck ones. "What do you want me to say? I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Josh said. "So you've said." Josh finally moved more than a step, pushing his way past Drake, twisting his body so they wouldn't touch. The movement seemed to loosen his tongue because when he stopped and turned around a few feet away, he said, "You've done a lot of stupid things, Drake. But I never thought you'd do something like this."

"I told you, I didn't mean–"

"Can it," Josh said and the acid in his voice froze Drake. "Yes, you did. You meant it. You _always_ mean it, you just tell yourself you don't."

"Josh, I swear…"

"No, goddamn it!" Josh stopped then, running a hand roughly through his hair, leaving a trail of unruly spikes in its wake. He opened his mouth to speak again, but then closed it. Drake could see his fingers trembling as he balled them into fists.

"I fucked up," Drake said when he couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Okay. But don't let that stop you. You can still go out there and get married. Only you'll have to do it without me." He tried to laugh, but the sound was brittle. "If I go back out there, Mindy will have my balls for breakfast. But I'm sure Walter will stand up for you. Or Craig. Or Eric."

Josh just gave him a blank stare, his hazel eyes flat. "It's ruined," he said.

"No, Josh, it's–"

A sharp knock on the door nearly made them both jump out of their skin. "Josh? Honey? Are you in there?"

Mindy. Shit.

Josh looked at the door and Drake got the sinking feeling, watching him, that the world had just shifted irreversibly out of place.

"Josh?" Another knock, only softer this time, and then the doorknob turned with a muted squeak and Drake heard the door open behind him. He didn't turn around.

"There you are," she said and the softness in her voice told Drake she definitely wasn't talking to him. He heard the rustling of her dress and smelled her perfume as she walked past him without a glance and over to Josh, where the sight of her hand on Josh's chest made Drake's own ache in a way he wasn't expecting.

"Honey," she said to Josh. "Nothing's changed. Let's go get married."

But Josh was still looking at Drake. "Give me…" he said. "I just need a minute." He finally tore his eyes from Drake's to look at Mindy, then kissed her gently on the forehead. "Okay?" He tried to smile, but Drake could see it was forced.

Mindy turned her head, almost looked at Drake, but turned away again, back to Josh. She tilted her head even further back to look into Josh's face, then said, "Don't let him ruin it, Josh, okay? Promise me."

Josh just nodded as he looked back at Drake. His eyes still held that thousand-mile stare, but there was something else in them, too, now. Something Drake told himself he was just imagining.

"I'll be waiting for you outside," Mindy said and reached up to kiss Josh's cheek. "I love you."

Drake closed his eyes at that and kept them closed, even after he heard the door click behind her. He focused on breathing, on listening to his heart beat, on quieting the noise inside his head.

He didn't know how long they stood there in a silence so profound he felt like it would crush him, but when he opened his eyes, he expected to see that Josh had gone.

But he hadn't; he was still standing in the same spot, looking back at Drake.

He swallowed. "Please don't hate me, Josh."

Josh didn't say anything to that.

"I don't think I could take it." Drake knew the words were the truth. He could take anything, but not that.

The seconds ticked by in Drake's head – one one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, four one thousand, five…

"I don't hate you," Josh finally said and Drake felt light-headed with relief, the breath he'd been holding draining out of his lungs like a slow leak. "I should," Josh continued, "but I don't."

"What can I do?" Drake asked. "Tell me."

Josh smiled then – a small, tired smile that barely lifted the corners of his mouth. It was the saddest smile Drake had ever seen. "You can go away," he said.

Drake felt his face fall and from the way Josh's eyes changed, he knew Josh saw it. "Josh…"

"You asked me, Drake. So I'm telling you. I'm sorry if your feelings are hurt." His mouth twisted a little, telling Drake he really wasn't sorry at all.

It wasn't until Drake was reaching for the doorknob that he remembered he was still wearing Mindy's wedding ring on his pinky. Fuck. So much for a graceful exit. He closed his eyes and breathed in, holding the air in his lungs like pot smoke before releasing it slowly through his nose.

"…should go in there," Drake heard outside the door. It was muted, but it sounded like Walter's voice.

Another voice – his mom's – said, "Give them a minute."

He turned from the door to find Josh sitting on a bench against the wall, leaning over his knees, holding his head in his hands. Drake's shiny black shoes clicked softly across the creaky wooden floor as he made his way across the small space to stand in front of his brother. He looked down, saw Josh's long fingers snaked through his black hair, and sighed.

Twisting the gold band off his finger, he turned it briefly between his thumb and forefinger. There was an inscription, he noticed, and when he took a closer look, he managed to make it out. "Two hearts," it said, followed by the date.

"Hey, man," he said, his voice a little choked. Clearing his throat roughly, he went on. "You've gotta get married today. The ring says so." He was trying for levity, but failed miserably, his words dropping from his lips like lead pellets.

Josh didn't respond.

"Okay," Drake said, his voice nearly a whisper. "I'm going now." He set the ring carefully on the bench beside Josh and turned around. This time he did pull at his tie, the knot coming mercifully loose as he reached the door.

"What were you going to say?"

Drake's hand stopped in mid-air, two inches from the tarnished brass doorknob. "When?" he made himself ask, letting his hand drop. But he knew, which was why he didn't turn around.

"In there," Josh said. "You started to say something, but then you stopped. What were you going to say?"

Drake closed his eyes against the question, against the pain and the bone-deep weariness in Josh's voice. "Does it matter?"

"I should be married right now, picking bird seed out of my hair. But instead, I'm sitting here with you. So yes," Josh said, the anger in his voice a welcome change from the emptiness, "it matters."

Drake turned from the door, found Josh sitting up, leaning back against the wall, twisting Mindy's wedding band around his left index finger. Their eyes met and Drake knew at that moment he wouldn't tell his brother the truth.

"I was just gonna say I thought you were too young to settle down." It didn't sound convincing, even to him.

Josh stopped spinning the ring and Drake saw a muscle twitch in his brother's cheek. "I don't believe you," Josh said.

He knew Josh wouldn't believe him. Josh knew him too well. He always had. "Josh, I…" Drake said, feeling his mouth go dry.

"Just fucking tell me," Josh said and his use of profanity gave away the depth of his anger. "You owe me that much."

Josh was right, of course. Drake did owe him. And for much more than just this. But he didn't know if he could do it. He opened his mouth, closed it again, repeated the process.

"I'm just trying to understand," Josh said into the silence, his voice quiet. "I mean, I know you, Drake. You never do anything without a reason that you, at least, think is a good one. I know it can't be simply because you hate Mindy, because that's nothing new. So whatever it is must be really good."

"It is," Drake whispered.

"So tell me," Josh said.

"I…" Drake began. "I…" He closed his eyes, breathed out. "I think I'm in love with you."

There, he said it. And the world hadn't exploded.

At least not yet.

* * *

_Please review. Thank you._


	3. Fight and Flight

**Title:** The Best Man  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** T/PG-13  
**Warnings:** bad words, slash  
**Pairings:** Josh/Mindy, Drake/Josh

**Author's Note: **Three chapters in three days. Wow. Even I'm impressed. But, alas, the work week starts tomorrow and that means less time for writing. But I'll do my best to update regularly.

* * *

Chapter 3: Fight and Flight

Okay, so maybe the world at large hadn't exploded, but his just had. That was bad enough. But Josh's had, too, and that was even worse. Drake would remember this moment forever, he was sure of it – the way Josh's stare bore painfully into his when Drake finally opened his eyes, the funny way Josh's breathing seemed to stop and start, the irregular way his Adam's apple strained against the stiff white collar of his tuxedo shirt.

"Josh?"

"Get out."

"But…"

"Get. Out."

Drake nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "Okay." He willed his legs to work, to turn him back to the door, where it took him two tries to turn the knob enough to allow him to pull it open.

The small crowd that had formed outside the door turned as one to look at him. "What's going on in there?" he heard Walter ask him, and was that anger in his voice? Probably. Walter had spent the better part of the last eight years watching Drake hurt Josh in many different ways and maybe now he'd finally had enough.

"Nothing," Drake muttered automatically, meeting his stepfather's eyes. "Nothing's going on. Everything's fine." Except everything wasn't fine. It was far from fine. It was as far from fine as it could get and still be in California.

Walter opened his mouth to speak and Drake welcomed whatever it was he was going to say. At least it would be something else to focus on besides the ever-growing emptiness that was clawing at his guts. But Audrey grabbed Walter's arm and ushered him into the room, closing the door behind them. Drake watched them go, then stared at the closed door.

"What did you say to him?" Mindy asked, her voice accusatory and rightfully so. But even though her anger was justified, Drake still couldn't help feeling like she was the competition. She always had been, really, if he thought about it. It had just taken him this long to realize it.

Drake turned his eyes on her and felt a tingle of anger at the base of his skull. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he asked, smirking.

She actually lunged for him then and was stopped short by her father's hands on her arms. He felt himself smile as he watched her try to jerk out of her father's grasp. This, he thought. Battling it out with Mindy. This was something he was good at.

"You just can't stand not being the center of attention, can you?" she hissed. "Everything always has to be about _you._"

"Not everything," Drake said angrily. "Sometimes it's about Josh. About the two of us. But you wouldn't understand that, would you? You never have."

She stopped struggling and her father's hands fell away. It took her a moment, but she finally said, "You're right. I don't understand. I've never understood why Josh ever bothered with you. You've done nothing but take and take from him. But what have you ever given him in return besides grief? Nothing, Drake. Absolutely nothing."

"We're brothers," Drake said, feeling his advantage draining away. He was off his game and the imbalance was making him dizzy.

"_Step_brothers, Drake. That's all. Your parents got married and he's been paying for it ever since. For God's sake, let him go."

"I can't." He barely heard the words leave his own mouth, but apparently Mindy heard them just fine.

"Can't? Or won't?" Her eyes flashed darkly and in the ensuing silence, Drake watched her parents leave quietly, disappearing down the hall back towards the sanctuary. He imagined what it must be like in there. "I can't believe you're still so selfish."

He turned his eyes back towards her at that. "Me?" he spat and felt stronger again. "What about you?"

"Excuse me?"

"This, Mindy," Drake said, motioning with open hands around him. "This whole thing. Josh didn't want any of this."

"Of course he did." Mindy's voice was so irritatingly smug he wanted to slap her.

"No," Drake said. "He didn't. He just wanted to get married. That's all. Something small. Something quiet. But as usual, you got what _you_ wanted. _Fuck_ him."

"That's not true," she said, her manicured hands pressed into tight fists against the expensive folds of her dress. "Josh was there for all of it. For everything."

"Yeah, to hold the bags, maybe," Drake said, his voice dripping with undisguised sarcasm. He took a breath. "You picked _crème brûlée_ for dessert."

"What?" she asked, confusion wrinkling her brow. "So?"

"Josh hates c_rème brûlée_," Drake said, as if he'd made his point.

Mindy didn't say anything for a minute, but as the seconds ticked by, her perfectly made-up face darkened and her lips pressed together into a thin line. "Fuck the c_rème brûlée_," she said, keeping her voice low. "You are_ not _making this my fault."

"Why not?" he said. "You've turned 'Blaming Drake' into an art form. And okay, _this_," – he jabbed his finger at the floor between them – "right here, right now, is my fault. I take full responsibility for it." She opened her mouth to spew more vitriol in his direction, but he cut her off. "But maybe you should ask yourself why he's still in there when you're out here. When not ten minutes ago, you practically begged him to go back out there and marry you." He knew that wasn't fair. What he'd confessed to Josh was the verbal equivalent of an atomic bomb and Josh was still recovering from the blast. But it still felt good to say it.

Mindy, amazingly, was speechless, her mouth working soundlessly as her eyes slipped from his face to the still-closed door behind him. Her body sagged slightly, like it was losing its fight against gravity, and suddenly his victory felt false and brittle and unsatisfying. Because despite everything, he knew she loved Josh. She really did. And the seed of doubt he'd just intentionally planted had already begun to germinate; he could see it in her eyes.

Shit. "Mindy–"

"Shut up, Drake," she said, meeting his eyes again. Her voice was low and even and maybe a little defeated. "Just stop talking now. You've said enough already."

She was right; he had. Way more than enough.

* * *

Megan grabbed his arm so hard when he turned the corner into the sanctuary, he knew he was going to have bruises later. She dragged him violently back into the hallway. "What the hell were you thinking?" she asked him, her dark eyes flashing in that way that always signaled danger ahead.

"Let go of my fucking arm," Drake said through his teeth, meeting her glare unwaveringly.

Megan dug her fingers deeper into his arm, holding her grip before letting go, leaning in towards him. She was sixteen going on thirty and had a tongue sharp enough to tear even Mindy to shreds without breaking a sweat. "Are you _trying_ to ruin his life or does it just come naturally to you?"

Drake took a second to answer, moving his gaze from his sister to look beyond her, where Mindy was leaning against the wall in front of the still-closed door, arms crossed protectively over her chest, staring at the floor. "I'm not trying to ruin his life, Megan," he finally said, looking back at his sister, feeling suddenly weary. "I would never do that."

Megan just shook her head, her intricately styled dark hair brushing against her shoulders. Drake wondered how long she had to sit still for that; she had the patience of a man on fire. "On purpose, maybe," she finally said. "But you have a seemingly endless capacity for wrecking things, Drake. You never mean to; it just seems to happen."

Drake felt his throat constrict. "He said I _always _mean it," he said, his voice strained. "I just tell myself I don't."

"I'm sure that's how it looks from his perspective," she said, and the dark gleam that crept into her eyes belied the softness of her voice. "After all, he's been picking up after your mistakes since you were fifteen."

"I've always been there for him," he said, ignoring the static growing louder inside his head. "When it counted."

"Like today?" Megan's voice was hard, edgy. "Great job, by the way."

"Look," Drake said, feeling the heat creep up his neck. "How many times can I say I'm sorry, huh? I tried to fix it. He wouldn't let me."

"Fix it? How? With a smile and a song?" She shoved him in the chest with her left hand. "This was his _wedding_, Drake. His _life._ Don't you get that?"

She went to shove him again, but he caught her wrist and squeezed. "I get it, okay? I ruined his life. But what about mine? He was getting _married_, Megan. Married. Do you have any idea what that means?" He didn't want to talk about it anymore and Jesus Christ, he wanted to cry. He had to get out of there. He let go of Megan's arm.

"You mean besides 'His' and 'Hers' bath towels and joint tax returns? Yeah, it means he won't be able to drop everything for you anymore. It means you're out of the loop. And you can't stand it." She absently rubbed her wrist. "Josh has created a life without you, Drake, and it's killing you."

Drake closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead. "I gotta get outta here."

"Go ahead, then," Megan said. "Leave. It's what you're–"

The sound of a door opening at the end of the hall captured their attention, and Drake looked up to see Josh come out of the room. Mindy pushed away from the wall and reached for him, said something, tried to smile. Josh shook his head, then as if on cue, turned his gaze down the hall and met Drake's eyes. Mindy grabbed Josh's arm, pressed her hand to his chest, said something else. Josh answered her without looking at her, turning his head just a fraction in her direction while keeping his eyes on Drake. Mindy's hand slipped from his chest.

"Oh, my God," Megan whispered at Drake's shoulder and when he was finally able to tear his eyes from Josh's to look at her, he found her staring back at him, wide-eyed, her mouth hanging slightly open. "You–"

"Is there another way out of here?" he asked quickly, cutting her off.

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "There's a side door through the minister's office," she said softly, nodding in its direction.

"Thank you." Drake could barely get the words out.

With a last look down the hall – Josh was still looking at him – he made his escape.

* * *

The door to his red Ford Mustang had barely closed behind him when something came loose in his chest. He managed to turn the key in the ignition before the first sob escaped his throat. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, he was grateful the windows were tinted.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, but his breathing had just about returned to normal when a tap on the passenger window made him nearly jump out of his skin. Wiping at his eyes, he pressed the button to lower the window and saw Tan Legs peering in at him, the sun glinting off her dark blonde hair.

"I thought you could use a friend," she said, resting her arms across the edge of the door. "Want some company?"

Drake looked at her – at her tan skin and pink lips and suggestive smile – and completely ignored the voice inside his head telling him this was a very bad idea. _Fuck it,_ he thought.

"Get in," he said.

* * *

_Review are always appreciated. Thanks._


	4. A Light in the Darkness

**Title:** The Best Man  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** T/PG-13  
**Warnings:** bad words, slash  
**Pairings:** Josh/Mindy, Drake/Josh

**Author's Note: **Yup, there's a flashback (in _italics_) in this one. I just couldn't resist. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 4: A Light in the Darkness

It had been a mistake. He'd known that before she'd even gotten in the car. He'd known it as he'd followed her directions back to her place, he'd known it when she'd pushed his tux jacket from his shoulders the second they'd stepped inside her apartment, he'd known it when the mere idea of her legs wrapped around him had quickly become a reality.

Yeah, he'd known it was a mistake, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to give a shit.

Her name was Maura. She was Mindy's first cousin once removed or some such bullshit and the fact that he'd just swapped fluids with someone sharing DNA with Mindy Crenshaw was only now beginning to sink in. He'd managed to sneak out of bed without waking her and into the bathroom, where he was standing under a shower that was nearly too hot to bear. On top of it all, he couldn't get the sound of Josh's voice out of his head. His brother's words still reverberated inside his skull.

Drake pushed his face into the shower stream and hoped the noise would drown them out.

It didn't.

He heard the bathroom door open. "It's just me," Maura said sleepily and Drake closed his eyes. "I have to pee."

_Please,_ he silently pleaded, _let me slip and hit my head._

She started chattering on about the wedding. "I couldn't believe it, you know," she was saying. "I mean, when you actually _said_ something. I didn't think people actually _did_ that except in the movies."

Drake wanted to scream, but instead he ground his teeth and leaned against his hands along the wall of the shower.

"I doubt _this _was in Mindy's book," she said and giggled.

"Book?" Drake asked automatically, letting his head dangle low between his arms. He didn't really care, but it was better than listening to Josh tell him to get out over and over again.

"Yeah," Maura said, laughing. "She's got this binder full of wedding stuff. Every last detail. It's got tabs. Color-coded tabs. And an index." She laughed again, but it suddenly turned into gasp. "Shit!" she said. "Mindy."

Drake lifted his head, not liking the sound of that. "What?" he asked warily.

"Um, nothing, really," she said. Then she poked her head around the shower curtain and gave him a sheepish grin. "She's just sorta been staying here for the last week."

"_What?_" That got Drake's full attention and he turned off the water and ripped the curtain all the way back, staring at Maura incredulously. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Josh had told him, he remembered too late, although Drake couldn't remember whether Josh had told him _where_ she was staying. He probably had, but as usual, Drake hadn't been paying attention.

* * *

"_You're not even married yet and she already left you," Drake said, smiling. He and Josh had just gotten back to Josh and Mindy's place after a late night. Josh had told Drake he could stay over since Mindy wasn't there. "That's not a good sign, man."_

"_She didn't leave me, Drake," Josh said, shaking his head but returning Drake's smile. "She's just spending the week at her cousin Maura's place. She thought it would be better if we spent a little time apart, that's all."_

"_Well," Drake said, grinning. "It's definitely better for me, that's for sure." He kicked off his shoes and stretched out luxuriously on the sofa, closing his eyes. He opened them again a second later when he felt a pillow smack against his face. "What was that for?"_

"_For being you," Josh said. He was slouched low inside the cushy chair next to the sofa, his big, shoeless feet propped on the edge of the coffee table._

_He grinned at Drake and Drake felt himself grin back. "You love me, though," Drake said and something fluttered in his stomach at the words._

"_I do."_

* * *

Maura still should have told him.

She was standing in front of the toilet in his half-buttoned tuxedo shirt, her blonde hair disheveled and her blue eyes wide. She gave him a little shrug. "It just sort of slipped my mind," she answered.

Drake was furious. "Slipped your mind? _Slipped_ your _mind_?" He stepped out of the shower and snatched a blue towel off the rack. "Mindy fucking hates me, Myra. Or has the little fact that I ruined her wedding slipped your mind, too?" He started angrily drying himself off.

She took a step back. "Maura," she said after a moment.

"What?" he snapped, barely looking at her as he stomped past her into the bedroom. He threw the towel down and looked around for his boxers, finally finding them in a heap at the foot of the bed. Snatching them up, he dragged them on, followed by his pants, which were also in a heap on the floor.

"My name is Maura," she said behind him and the note of something unsettled in her voice made him stop and turn around.

She was leaning against the bathroom doorway, arms crossed over her chest, staring at him. Her mouth was set in a firm line and it almost looked like her chin was quivering. But since the light was behind her, he couldn't quite tell.

He suddenly felt like such a shit. "I'm sorry," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling his energy drain away. "It's just…_fuck_."

* * *

"_Ugh," Drake said, rolling his eyes, reaching for the pillow that had fallen on the floor next to him and hugging it to his body._

"_What?" Josh asked._

" '_I do,' " Drake said. "The two worst words in the English language."_

"_Oh, please. You say them all the time. 'I do love girls.' 'I do love my guitar.' 'I do love myself above all others.' " Josh laughed, leaning his head along the back of the chair, staring up at the ceiling._

"_Not all others," Drake said softly, watching Josh. He liked it best this way – just the two of them. The way it used to be._

"_Huh?" Josh asked, lifting his head to meet Drake's eyes._

_Drake smiled crookedly at him. "You forgot, 'I do hate Mindy.' "_

_Josh rolled his eyes, feigning exasperation. "Tell me something I don't know."_

_A moment passed before Drake said, "I slept with Stacy Whittaker."_

"_What?" Confusion darkened Josh's expression._

"_In the back seat of Mom's Explorer. I was fifteen." Drake watched Josh's expression change._

"_Why did you just tell me that?" Josh asked._

_Drake rolled his head along the arm of the couch and looked at Josh sideways. "You said to tell you something you didn't know."_

"_It's an expression, Drake. Like when I say, 'Please, just kill me.' It doesn't mean I actually want you to kill me," Josh said._

_But Drake wasn't finished. "It wasn't long after Mom and Walter got married," he said and felt suddenly guilty for keeping this from Josh for all these years. "I should've told you, but I didn't."_

"_Well, we weren't exactly best friends after I first moved in. You hated me," Josh said, smiling._

* * *

"If it's any consolation, I doubt she'll be coming home any time soon," Maura said, stepping into the bedroom.

Drake met her eyes and cracked a half-smile despite himself. "I wish she would," he said. "Then she could just kill me and get it over with."

She tilted her head and looked at him closely, her blue eyes scanning his face in a way that made him wonder if she could read his thoughts. Finally, she said, "Do you know why she hates you so much?"

Drake tried to think of something funny, something clever that would push back the ominous feeling that was suddenly creeping across his skin, but he was at a loss. He shook his head instead.

Maura paused before answering, like she was debating something. Then she said, "Because she's afraid Josh loves you more than he loves her. And she can't forgive you for it."

* * *

"_I didn't hate you," Drake said._

"_Okay, maybe 'hate' is too strong a word. But you certainly resented me."_

"_I did–"_

"_Drake, you wrote a song called, 'I'm Not Sharing My Room with Josh'," Josh said._

_Drake felt his cheeks burn. "I didn't think you knew about that."_

"_I found it by accident when I was looking for my copy of 'O'," Josh said, grinning sheepishly at Drake over his toes. A moment passed. "It wasn't very good, I have to say. You've written better."_

"_Hey!" Drake threw the pillow at Josh. "It wasn't that bad."_

_Josh caught it out of the air easily and tucked it between his left hip and the chair, resting his arm on it. " 'All he'll do is touch my stuff/And spread around his flaky dandruff'." He laughed. "I don't even have dandruff," he said._

_Drake smiled. "I didn't know that. Besides, it rhymed." He groaned, turning his eyes towards the ceiling. "I can't believe you remember that."_

"_Remember it?" Josh said. "I still have it."_

_Drake snapped his head up. "You're kidding."_

_Josh grinned. "Nope." He planted his feet on the floor and stood up, the pillow falling over on the cushion. "Be right back."_

_A couple minutes later, Josh came back, holding a small metal box in his hands. Drake sat up. Setting the box on the coffee table, Josh sat down next to Drake, close enough so their knees and elbows were touching. He gave Drake a little smile as he fished in his pocket for his keys, their jingling loud in the quiet._

_Drake watched as Josh unlocked the box and then looked inside as Josh lifted the lid. Inside was a jumble of papers and other odds and ends and Josh dug through nearly to the bottom before he said, "Here it is." Pulling out a folded sheet of paper, he handed it to Drake. Sure enough, there it was, chicken scratch and all._

_Something seized in Drake's chest and it took him a moment to reply. "I can't believe you kept this," he finally said, turning his head to meet Josh's eyes._

_Josh nudged him. "That's not all I've got in here," he said, smiling as he dug into the box again. "Remember these?" he asked, holding out a strip of pictures._

_Setting down the paper he still held on the cushion beside him, Drake took the pictures from Josh. He laughed. "Oh, God," he groaned. "I remember how hot those costumes were."_

_Josh laughed. "I believe it was your idea to go to the mall and goof on strangers." Josh sat up and mimicked, " 'But Josh, we don't have to return the costumes until tomorrow. Come on. It'll be fun.' "_

"_I didn't know that guy was a rabbi," Drake said, still laughing. "Boy, was he mad."_

"_He wanted to have us arrested for impersonating Hasidic Jews."_

"_I wonder what gave us away," Drake said, looking back down at the pictures. He remembered that night. After they'd driven Megan back home, Drake had talked Josh into going to the mall to try out their new personas on complete strangers._

"_Oh, I don't know, Drake," Josh said. "Maybe the fact that we didn't know Hebrew or that you sounded like the guy in the Lucky Charms commercials."_

"_Jesus," Drake said, "we looked ridiculous. God only knows what people thought as we climbed out of that photo kiosk, laughing our asses off." He looked over at Josh. "It was fun, though."_

"_Yeah," Josh said. "It was. It's always fun with you."_

* * *

Maura held his discarded bow tie out to him when he looked up from putting on his shoes. "You might need this," she said, the corners of her mouth lifting up in a small smile.

Drake reached for it. "Thanks," he said, not meeting her eyes. He folded it in half once, then again and shoved it in his pocket. "Damn thing's a rental." He stood up, motioned vaguely to his disheveled appearance. "I doubt I'll get my deposit back."

Her smile widened, but she didn't say anything. She was wearing low-slung black yoga pants and a snug blue t-shirt that brought out the color of her eyes. With her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail behind her head, Drake thought she looked the prettiest he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't be," she said. "I propositioned you, remember?"

He did remember. But that still didn't make it right. "If you want to tell Mindy, I'm sure I deserve it."

Maura laughed. "Mindy doesn't need to know." She pushed a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "We're cousins, not sisters."

"You're her maid of honor, though. I thought that was, like, sacred or something."

"Do you know why I'm her maid of honor? Because my dad is her dad's business partner. That's it. We usually only speak at formal family functions. So don't worry about it." She disappeared from the bedroom and Drake followed her out, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He'd had it on silent for the wedding and hadn't switched the ringer back on. He made an effort not to hold his breath as he flipped it open.

* * *

_Drake was suddenly acutely aware of the feel of Josh's body pressed up against his and cleared his throat roughly, moving a couple inches away before asking, "What else have you got in there?"_

_Josh grinned. "Nuh-uh," he said, taking the pictures from Drake's hand and reaching across Drake's lap to pick up the song. "I'm not giving away _all_ my secrets." He placed the items back into box and locked it. "You'll just have wonder."_

"_Fine," Drake said. "But you better sleep with that thing under your pillow because I'm an expert at picking locks."_

"_Don't I know it," Josh quipped. "The liquor cabinet, the front door, the bathroom…" he listed, ticking off his fingers. He gave Drake a pointed look. "The Johnsons' tool shed."_

"_Hey, that's not my fault," Drake said, laughing, holding his hands up in innocence. "I went in there to get Walter's drill back. How was I supposed to know you had Mindy in there?" He made a face. "My eyes are _still_ bleeding from that."_

"_Ha-ha." Josh stifled a yawn as he settled back into the couch. "Wanna watch a movie or something?"_

_Drake looked over at his brother. He knew Josh was tired, could see it in his half-closed eyes and the sleepy way his smile drooped on one side. But he also didn't want to say goodnight just yet, so he said, "Sure."_

_When he woke up the next morning, he was sprawled across Josh, his head resting on Josh's chest._

_He had the sudden feeling he was where he belonged._

* * *

He had six new messages. The first two were from his parents – one from each – and he deleted them without listening to them. The next two were from Megan and he got halfway through the first one before he deleted it, then deleted the second one before it even started. The fifth one was from his manager, Luke, telling him he'd lined up a gig for Drake's band in Toledo – some two-bit music festival. Fuckin' _Toledo._ It wasn't exactly LA, but it was better than nothing, and it was a hell of a long way away from San Diego. He saved the message for later.

The sixth message made Drake stop in his tracks, made his breath catch in his throat. It was from Josh. He pressed the phone hard against his ear, not wanting to miss a word.

"Drake. We need to talk. I…I need to talk. To you." He sighed and Drake could picture Josh's face in his mind – eyes closed, hand gripping his forehead. "Call me." That was it.

Drake played the message again, closing his eyes against the sound of his brother's voice, and felt nauseous. When the message was over, he pressed END and let his hand drop, gripping the phone with trembling fingers.

"What is it?" he heard Maura ask and he opened his eyes to find her looking at him, holding his tuxedo jacket in her hands.

"Josh," he managed. "He wants to talk to me."

Maura didn't respond for a moment, then said softly, "He's a good guy, Drake. He'll forgive you."

Drake could only hope.

* * *

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you._


	5. The Best Medicine is Eighty Proof

**Title:** The Best Man  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** T/PG-13  
**Warnings:** bad words, slash  
**Pairings:** Josh/Mindy, Drake/Josh

**Author's Note: **You knew there had to be alcohol involved eventually. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 5: The Best Medicine is Eighty Proof

Early afternoon had bled into late afternoon, which was now slowly dissolving into evening. The sun hung low in the sky, directly in Drake's line of sight, and he reached up and flipped the visor down irritably.

He couldn't believe it had gotten so late. There were obviously a couple hours he couldn't quite account for between the wedding and now. He figured he'd fallen asleep at Maura's, although how he'd managed it with all the chaos raging inside his head he didn't know.

He also didn't know where he was going; he didn't have a plan. Well, except maybe to avoid anyone he was related to until hell froze over or they all died, whichever came first. The only problem with that plan was that Josh fell into that category and he desperately wanted to see him. But at the same time, he didn't want to see him, as evidenced by the fact he still hadn't called him back.

He'd tried. He'd sat in the car in the parking lot of Maura's apartment complex staring at his open phone, his right thumb hovering over the number 2, Josh's assigned speed dial number (1 was for voicemail). But he hadn't had the nerve to press it, afraid of what he would hear on the other end. So he'd shoved the phone back into his pocket and started the car and turned west out of the complex without any plan besides somehow getting through the rest of the day.

Luckily, there wasn't that much of it left.

How he ended up at the church he couldn't say, except subconsciously – and completely illogically – he must've thought Josh would still be there. Drake could picture him sitting on the front steps, tux jacket folded neatly over his lap, elbows resting on his knees, waiting for him.

He wasn't, of course. The front steps were empty, but the bunting made from real lilies ("They had to be flown in from Idaho," Josh told him) still hung over the front doors and the pink ribbon was still wrapped around the banisters. It had started to come off on one side, however, the loose end blowing in the breeze.

The only remnants of a wedding that wasn't.

Except, as Drake discovered as he was leaving the parking lot, for the two men in rolled-up shirtsleeves and blue tuxedo pants perched inside the open driver's side doors of a Buick whose better days were far behind it.

Craig and Eric.

They stood to look at him as the deep rumbling of the Mustang's big engine approached. Pulling up beside them, he lowered the window. "What are you two doing here?" he asked, although really, the answer was obvious.

Craig or Eric (they really should wear name tags) said, "We could ask you the same thing."

Drake ignored the comment and leaned his head out of the window to crane his neck towards the exposed engine of their car. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked. Like he would know.

"The engine won't turn over," CraigorEric said, shrugging one shoulder and pushing up his glasses with a slightly smudgy hand. "Battery's probably dead."

Drake looked up at the sky, at the drooping sun and the lengthening shadows, then turned back to them. "You guys been here this whole time? The wedding was over hours ago."

He saw the uncomfortable way they both shifted at that and looked away. "After everyone left, we, uh," one of them said, "stayed to help the minister clean up. Then he left and now our car won't start. AAA's on its way."

Drake stared at them, not really seeing them, trying to picture in his mind what must've happened after he bolted. He didn't really want to think about it.

"Well, you missed some," he said, motioning with his head to the building behind them. "Around front. There's some flowers and stuff."

"Reverend Stevens said to leave it for the christening tomorrow," CraigorEric said.

"Ah," Drake said, nodding slowly. "Waste not, want not. That's my motto."

An awkward silence passed where Drake tried not to think about Josh and Craig and Eric tried to pretend they didn't know he was trying not to think about Josh. "He asked us if we'd seen you leave. If we knew where you'd gone," CraigorEric blurted and the other one nudged him hard in the side with his elbow.

Drake focused on them then, looking back and forth between them and their guileless faces. "I've just been out," he finally said. "Thinking." He tapped his left temple with his index finger. "Trying to clear my head." The fact that it hadn't worked was of no relevance.

They both just nodded and another heavy silence descended.

"Hey, you guys wanna go have a drink with me?" Drake asked suddenly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

Craig and Eric looked at each other, then looked back at Drake. "We should probably stay and wait for AAA," one of them, the one with glasses, said.

"Call 'em back and tell 'em not to come. You guys can ride with me." Drake gave their car a cursory inspection and looked back at them, smirking. "You can leave your car here until tomorrow. No one's gonna steal that heap, anyway," he said, gritting his teeth against the desperation in his voice. He wanted to laugh, but couldn't.

"Well…" one of them said, looking at the other one.

"Come _on,_" Drake insisted. "It'll be fun."

They finally agreed and turned to close the hood and gather their jackets before locking the car doors. By the time they opened the door of the Mustang, they were grinning like they'd just been kissed by the Homecoming Queen at the senior prom.

They looked at him like even now, after so much time, it was such an honor to be seen in public with Drake Parker. He wanted to tell them not to puff it up too much, that his cool stock had plummeted in very recent history, but he didn't. Instead, he told them that one of them had to sit in front because he wasn't a fucking chauffeur.

* * *

His goddamn phone wouldn't ring.

Why he expected it to, he wasn't sure, but that didn't lessen the sting any. Okay, so yeah, it was his turn to do the calling – actually, he should've made the first move, but Josh had beaten him to it – but, _dammit_, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

He had laid it on the table so he could see it light up in case he missed hearing it vibrate in the loud din of the pub and now it just sat there, dark and quiet, mocking him. He felt like crushing it into smithereens beneath the heel of his rented shoe.

Picking up his glass, he tilted it back and discovered it was empty. "Another round, boys?" he asked Craig and Eric, who were hunched together across the booth from him. He wiggled his empty glass in the air. They hadn't been there long, just long enough to make it through one drink, and Drake was only just beginning to feel the warmth spread through his veins.

"Sure," they both said in unison and Drake wondered if those two had reached the point where they finished each other's sentences. Probably.

"Great," Drake said and signaled for the waitress.

A few minutes later, Drake looked at them over the rim of his fresh glass. "Let me ask you something," he said, chewing a piece of ice.

Craig and Eric looked at each other for a second then looked back at Drake with matching wary expressions. "O-Okay," CraigorEric said.

"What's the square root of 37?" Drake asked seriously.

The looks on their faces made him crack up and he slapped the table with his palm. "You guys should've seen your faces. What, did you think I was gonna ask you if you thought Josh would ever forgive me?"

They didn't answer, but the funny thing was, Drake really did want to know. Voicemail message or no, he needed reassurance.

* * *

"You guys," Drake said deliberately, the words forming slowly in his head, "need to lighten up. You're much too serious." Was it just him, or was he slurring a little?

"Maybe you should lighten up a little on the alcohol," one of them said. "Let us get you some coffee."

"Only if it's Irish," Drake said and giggled. "I like me coffee with a little kick, matey," he added with an accent, winking slowly. Josh was right; he did sound like a leprechaun.

"Drake, come on. I think you've had enough. We'll take you home." The one closest to the end of the table moved to get up and the other one followed suit.

"Wait, wait," Drake said, holding his hand out. "What's your hurry? Sit, sit. Just one more. I swear."

They looked at him doubtfully, but they sat back down.

"So, which one of you's Craig and which one is Eric?"

* * *

"So are you guys, like, a couple?" Drake asked, two rounds later. He was slumped over the edge of the table, his chin propped on his hands, which were propped on an empty glass.

Craig and Eric exchanged a glance.

"'Cause I'm cool with it, you know," Drake said, "if you are. I mean" – he suppressed a burp – "it's okay with me."

CraigorEric smiled a little. "Good to know. We'll invite you to our wedding." Then he made a startled face. "Sorry," he said.

Drake shook his head and waved his hand in the air between them. "Don't worry about it. S'Okay." He slumped back against the seat. "Just don't ask me to be your best man," he said and laughed. It was a terribly sad sound, even to him.

He blinked once, then again – slowly, like his eyelids were made of lead. "Shit," he said. "I'm drunk."

* * *

"You're a nice guy, Craig," Drake slurred, leaning against him. "I always liked you."

"I'm Eric," Eric said.

Drake twisted his head to look up at him, squinting into Eric's face. They were in the parking lot. "Oh yeah," he said. "I knew that."

"Sure, Drake." They made it to the car and Eric propped Drake up against the Mustang, holding him there until he was steady.

It was completely dark now and when Drake looked up towards the sky, he wished he hadn't. "Oh shit," he said, swallowing down the rising bile in his throat and sliding slowly off the fender.

Someone caught him under the arms and dragged him back up, holding him there. "I've got you," Drake heard in what he swore was Josh's voice. But when he looked up into the guy's face, he saw it wasn't Josh at all. It was the other one. Craig.

"Where are the keys?" Eric asked him, holding out his hand.

"One sec," Drake answered belatedly, after the lapse between hearing and full comprehension had passed, fishing in his pocket for his keys. His fingers brushed against his phone – the one that hadn't rung – and he pulled it out instead. "Fuckin' thing," he muttered, staring down at it. "I think it's broken." He shook it next to his ear like a broken light bulb, like he was trying to hear the filament rattling around inside.

"The keys, Drake," Eric said patiently.

Drake looked over at him. "Keys," he said. "Right." Then he fished in his pocket again and pulled them out. "Here ya go, daddy-o." He dropped them into Eric's palm, grinning goofily.

Thirty seconds later, he was lying across the back seat, watching the dome light blink off as the doors closed with a heavy thud. When the scenery started moving through the window, he closed his eyes and rolled onto his side with a groan.

His phone vibrated against his palm and his eyes flew open. He brought the phone to his face and tried to make out the number, but his eyes wouldn't focus. So he just flipped it open and pressed it to his ear.

"Josh?" he asked groggily. "Is that you?"

"Where have you been?" It wasn't Josh. It was some chick. And she sounded angry.

"Where's Josh? I wanna talk to Josh."

"Josh isn't here, Drake." A pause. "Are you drunk?"

Drake giggled. "A little," he said. "Who wants to know?"

"Your mother," she said.

"Oh, hey, Mom," Drake said, oblivious. "Jus' blowin' off some steam. On my way home now."

"You're not driving are you?" She sounded alarmed.

"No, no. I'm being drived…driven. Whatever. I've got a ride."

There was a long pause and Drake thought he'd lost the call. But then she said, "Your father and I have been worried about you."

"I'm fine, Mom," he said. "Peachy. Couldn't be better. Don't worry."

"Drake…"

"Gotta go now." He pressed END. "Moms," he muttered. "Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em." Then he laughed.

* * *

Craig and Eric nearly dragged him up the front walk to his parents' house, each one holding one of his arms around their neck. "Watch the shoes, man," Drake said, his head drooping down towards his feet, the toes of which were nearly folded under. "Gotta return 'em."

Craig or Eric – Drake had lost track again – pressed the doorbell and after a moment, Walter opened the door. The foyer was dark behind him, but there was a faint glow coming from the living room further beyond. He looked at Drake, but didn't smile.

"Hey, Pop," Drake said, giggling.

Walter's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he looked to Drake's right, then to his left, and said, "Thank you for bringing him home in once piece, boys."

CraigorEric said, "No problem, Mr. Nichols." Then they dragged Drake into the house and down into the living room, where they deposited him carefully on the sofa.

"Can we borrow your phone book? We need to call a taxi."

Walter looked at Drake, who was sunk into the sofa cushions as far as he could get without being underneath them. Their eyes met briefly before Walter looked away, back to Craig and Eric. "I'll drive you both home," he said. Then he looked back at Drake. "You stay here and sleep it off," he said, and even through the fog in his head, Drake could hear the underlying anger in his stepfather's voice. "Only you'll have to do it downstairs because Aunt Katherine's staying in your old room."

"Right-o, Captain," Drake said and tried to salute. But the gesture only made it to his nose, which made him laugh again.

Walter, Craig, and Eric disappeared out the front door and Drake rested his head along the back of the sofa and closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his hands against them so roughly, it hurt.

He missed Josh.

* * *

"Hi, Josh. It's me." He was sitting on the cold tile floor of the half bath down the hall, leaning against the wall next to the toilet. He had his knees drawn to his chest, his head propped in his left hand, and his cell phone pressed against his right ear. He'd awoken to a dark house, sweating from a combination of the alcohol in his system and the blanket that had been placed over him. When he'd sat up, head pounding, he'd barely made it to the bathroom before the vomiting started.

His mouth still tasted sour. "I'm sorry I didn't call you back earlier. I…shit, I'm still a little drunk." He chuckled, grimacing at the way the sound aggravated his headache. "When I got your message, I was so relieved. I thought you'd never want to speak to me again. And I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. Not after everything. Not after this." He took a shaky breath, then another. "It's not that I don't want you to be happy, Josh," he continued, closing his eyes against the sting of tears. "I just want you to be happy with me. But all I ever seem to do is hurt you and I don't mean to, no matter what you say, but I do it anyway and I'm sorry." He raked his hand through his hair and leaned his head back against the wall. "Jesus, it feels like I'm always apologizing to you." He paused again, listening to the static in his ear for a moment. "I guess what I'm trying to say is…I lo–" The voicemail timed out, cutting him off mid-sentence.

He didn't call back.

* * *

_Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you._


	6. The Morning After

**Title:** The Best Man  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** T/PG-13  
**Warnings:** bad words, slash  
**Pairings:** Josh/Mindy, Drake/Josh

**Author's Note 1: **When you don't really have time to write, make time. Right? This is a bit of a transition chapter.

**Author's Note 2: **I remembered at the last minute that Aunt Katherine had gotten married (a la "The Wedding"), which kind of threw a kink into my original plans, so I improvised. It's nothing major, but I try to stick to canon as much as possible. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 6: The Morning After

"Here. Drink this." Megan's voice sliced through Drake's beleaguered brain like a knife through warm butter.

Drake cracked one eye open and used it to look at the glass of something red and viscous Megan held in her hand. His skull felt like a train had driven through it and dropped off a load of rocks on its way out. Really sharp rocks. "What is it?" he croaked and hazarded opening his other eye.

He'd run into Megan at the foot of the stairs the night before as he nearly crawled out of the downstairs bathroom on his way back to the sofa. She'd dragged him to the kitchen, made him drink three big glasses of water, and told him he could sleep the rest of the night in her room – on the floor like a dog since she wasn't completely over being mad at him yet.

"Bloody Mary mix," she said, pushing the glass towards him. "It'll help with your hangover."

Drake stared at her for a moment then sat up with effort, propping himself against the leg of her desk. "How do you know that?" he asked, taking the glass from her.

She looked down at him and smirked. "That," she said, "is for me to know and you never to tell Mom and Dad."

"Hmph." Drake brought the glass to his lips and took a tentative sip. It wasn't bad – like tomato juice only spicier. "That should be easy. My plan is to never speak to either one of them again," he said, leaning his head back against the leg of the desk and closing his eyes. The rocks shifted painfully inside his skull.

"Yeah, well, good luck with that one," Megan said and Drake heard her move away. "Because they _really_ want to talk to you."

"About what?" Drake asked warily. While he knew the answer to that question may seem obvious, it really wasn't, 'cause there were a couple choices – either the "We want to talk about what you did" scenario or the "We want to talk about what you told Josh" scenario. And while he didn't really want to talk about either of those two things, he could deal with the first one much better.

Or maybe they just wanted to give him the "There's a time to grow up, son. And that time is now" speech. He almost had that one memorized.

"Oh, I think they just want your opinion on what color to paint the kitchen. They can't decide between Spring Daffodil or Autumn Sunset. They're doing the whole house in seasonal colors. Your room's gonna be Summer Train Wreck."

Drake opened his eyes and looked at her. She was standing near the door, looking back at him, her dark eyes appraising him closely. "Cute," he said.

"This isn't a joke, Drake," Megan said. "They keep asking me if you're awake yet. I keep stalling."

"Thanks." He took a drink from his glass, then another.

"Walter caught me in the kitchen making that for you," she said, pointing to the glass in his hand. "I told him it was for Grammy."

Drake smiled slightly at that. "That sounds about right."

A long silence passed during which Megan came and knelt down beside him. "You can't hide in here forever, you know," she said, her voice softer. He felt her looking at him.

"I could try." He looked around. It wasn't as obnoxiously pink and purple as it used to be and the deep pile carpet wasn't half bad to sleep on.

"Drake."

"Yeah," he said. "I know." He set the glass carefully on the carpet beside him and drew his knees up, resting his elbows on them and cradling his head in his hands.

"Have you talked to him?" she asked.

Drake tensed at the words, then pushed his breath out roughly through his lips. "Not really," he said. Voicemail, that was all. It wasn't much. It wasn't anything, really. He remembered leaving the message for Josh – sitting in the dark in the downstairs bathroom, phone pressed to his ear. He remembered he got cut off, too, that he didn't call back.

He should've called back.

He snapped his head up and blinked to clear his fuzzy vision. "My phone," he said, panicked, patting his pockets. He found it in his left one and pulled it out, flipping it open, holding his breath.

No missed calls.

He stared at the screen until it went black and only stirred when he felt Megan's hand on his arm. "Listen," she said. "Why don't I go get your stuff for you so you can change out of that tux?" She plucked at the wrinkled fabric of his pants. "I'm not sure that even _is_ a tux anymore." She smiled and stood up. "Be right back," she said, heading for the door.

"Megan," Drake called after her and waited for her to turn around. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

She took a moment to answer, then shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I guess I must have a fever," she said and walked out the door.

* * *

"Why is Aunt Katherine staying here, anyway?" Drake asked Megan when she returned with an armful of his clothes a minute later. "She's rich. She could've bought her _own _house to stay in while she was here." He had managed to stand up with the help of Megan's desk and was actually beginning to feel a little better now that he was vertical.

Megan smiled, dropping his clothes on the bed. "Her driver got a little tipsy at the reception and disappeared with one of the ladies from the kitchen staff, taking the car with him."

Drake just looked at her. "Reception?"

Megan had the grace to look a little sheepish. "Yeah," she said. "Mindy's parents…well, they insisted. Said everything was already paid for anyway, so we might as well enjoy it." She smiled crookedly. "It kinda sucked, actually."

"Can't imagine why," Drake said absently as he sifted through the heap of clothes – a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved black t-shirt, socks, underwear, his comfy boots. As he picked up the shirt, he noticed it was the one Josh had given him for his birthday last year. He squeezed it in his fingers.

"Mom and Walter spent the whole time talking to the Crenshaws. I played drinking games with Grammy."

Drake gave her quizzical look. She laughed. "With soda."

Drake started unbuttoning his shirt, but Megan interrupted him. "Oh, no," she said, picking up his clothes and shoving them at him. "You do that in the bathroom. There will be no Naked Drake in my room. I'd have to move to the guest room."

Clutching his clothes to his chest, he said, smirking, "I've been naked in there."

"I. Do not. Want to know," Megan said, pushing him towards the door.

Drake laughed. "Okay, okay. I'm going." He got to the door, then stopped. He looked back at her. "Is it safe?"

Megan's expression softened a little. "Everyone's downstairs having breakfast. Walter's doing his best to keep Grammy and Aunt Katherine from killing each other."

"My money's on Grammy," Drake said, pulling open the door.

Megan laughed. "I don't know. Aunt Katherine's got a mean right hook. Just ask Uncle George."

"Uncle George is dead."

"Exactly."

* * *

Drake hovered in the entrance to the foyer, listening to the cacophony of voices coming from the dining area. He'd made out everyone's but Megan's, so he knew they were all at the table. So far, he hadn't heard his name, but he was certain it had already come up at least once that morning.

Looking across the foyer to the kitchen, Drake tried to calculate his chances of making it there without being seen. Slim to none at best.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Megan whispered harshly behind him. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Drake looked over his shoulder at her, arcing his eyebrows. "They could kill me and bury me in the backyard?"

Megan rolled her eyes. "Hardly. Besides, how would they explain it to the homeowners' association? I think you need a permit to dig a hole in the yard." She smiled.

Drake smiled despite himself. He felt noticeably more human now that he was in his own clothes and had actually brushed his teeth. But he still didn't want to go out there. He looked at his sister. "I think I'll go back upstairs and climb out the window. It'll be like old times." He turned back towards the stairs.

But Megan grabbed his arm and dragged him into the foyer. "Look who's up!" she said.

Four faces turned as one to look at them, eight pairs of eyes in varying degrees of wide-open staring back at him unblinkingly.

Grammy, not surprisingly, was the first to break the silence. "Well, if it isn't the Happy Homewrecker," she said, but she was smiling when she said it. "How ya doin', kid?"

"Uh…o-okay," Drake managed, clearing his throat. Megan began walking towards the table and he reached out for her; he wanted to use her as a shield. But she evaded his grasp and slid into her regular chair at the table next to their mother.

"You and weddings don't get along, do you?" Aunt Katherine asked bluntly and all eyes turned to her.

"As I recall, _Kitty_," Grammy said to her – Aunt Katherine loathed the nickname – "you ruined your _own _wedding just by being at it."

Aunt Katherine glared at Grammy and was about to say something when Grammy continued. "The happiest day of George's life was when he finally dropped dead."

"Now, ladies…" Walter began, trying to appease them, but they weren't listening. They were at each other's throats with renewed vigor.

Drake, grateful for the distraction, took the opportunity to disappear into the kitchen, where he slumped into a chair at the breakfast table and rested his head in his hands. His temples still pulsed slightly and there were still rocks inside his skull, but they were smaller now – more like pebbles.

He heard the swinging door push open behind him and suppressed a groan.

"Drake." His mom's voice.

Finally looking up, he saw that she was standing at the other end of the table, looking down at him with concern. "Mom," he said, meeting her eyes. "I'm really sorry."

Audrey pressed her lips together into a thin line, then nodded, pulling out the chair and settling into it. "What…" she began, then let out her breath, looking down at the table briefly before meeting his gaze again. "What is going on?"

Drake's fingers curled into loose fists on the table in front of him. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," she said, her voice carrying an edge. "You and Josh. What's going on between you two?"

He didn't answer her for a long moment, trying to gauge what she knew. But his powers of deduction were faulty on a good day; right now, with the remnants of a hangover clinging to his brain like barnacles, they were nil. "What did Josh tell you?"

"Nothing," she said after a moment. "He didn't tell us anything. That's why I'm asking you."

Drake felt his heart thudding against his ribs so hard, he wondered if his mom could see it through his shirt. The muted sounds of the continuing argument taking place in the next room filtered into the kitchen. "It's between me and Josh," he managed, though he barely heard the words leave his mouth.

Audrey shook her head, exasperated. "That's what he said."

"Well," Drake said, pushing away from the table. "That's it, then." He stood up and walked to the sink, grabbing a glass from the strainer and turning on the tap.

"No," Audrey said behind him and he could hear the heat in her voice. "That's _not_ it." The chair scraped along the floor, but Drake didn't turn to look at her. "I want an explanation."

Drake finished his glass of water and carefully set the empty glass in the sink. "We don't always get what we want, Mom," he finally said, keeping his voice low.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She sounded like she couldn't believe he would actually say something like that to her.

He turned to her, gripping the edge of the sink in his left hand and meeting her angry eyes. "It means it's private, Mom. It means you don't need to know. It means I'm not telling you."

Audrey stared at him, her mouth working slightly. Then she closed her eyes and exhaled. "I don't understand you boys," she said softly, opening her eyes. "I try to talk to Josh, he won't talk. I try to talk to you, you say it's none of my business. The two of you…it's like you're in a secret club that no one else can join."

"You're right, Mom. The Drake and Josh Club. The two of us against the world and fuck anyone who tries to come between us. Except guess what? _I'm_ the one who came between us. I ruined everything." He felt the telltale prickle of tears behind his eyes and tried to bite them back.

He watched his mother's face change and took a step back when she reached out to him. "Excuse me," he said, "but I don't really feel like talking anymore." He turned around quickly and beat a hasty retreat towards the front door, patting his pockets automatically for his keys. He didn't have them, of course, and had no idea where they were, but he didn't want to stop and look for them. All he wanted was to get out of there, somewhere where he could wallow in his misery in peace and avoid the accusatory stares of his relatives.

"Drake!" he heard his mom call behind him, but he ignored her. Grabbing the doorknob, he twisted it open and flung himself headlong out the door.

And right into Josh.

* * *

_Please review. Thank you!_


	7. The Worst Kind of Pain

**Title:** The Best Man  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** T/PG-13  
**Warnings:** bad words, slash  
**Pairings:** Josh/Mindy, Drake/Josh

**Author's Note: **I cannot tell you just how sick of looking at this chapter I am. I have literally been working on this off and on since 2AM. Why, you ask? Well, because I couldn't sleep and it's all this chapter's fault! (Needless to say, my butt was dragging at work today.) This wasn't how I originally planned this part of the story to go, but just as I was crawling into my nice, cozy bed for a bit of much-needed slumber, this evil little plot bunny infiltrated my thoughts. Evil, evil plot bunny! Anyway, enjoy! (P.S. - Please don't kill me.)

* * *

Chapter 7: The Worst Kind of Pain

"Josh." It was all he could think to say as the front door clicked shut behind him.

Josh looked at him and the first thing Drake noticed was that his brother looked tired. No, exhausted. His eyes were shadowed by dark circles and he looked a little pale, but he held Drake's eyes with a steady gaze.

"Hey," Josh said.

They stood there on the front stoop, staring at each other in silence, until the door opened behind them and Audrey said, startled, "Josh!"

"Hi, Mom," Josh said, looking at her.

"I didn't expect to see you this morning," she said, sounding a little unsure.

Josh nodded. "I was looking for Drake." He turned his eyes back to Drake, who hadn't stopped looking at him.

"Here I am," Drake said, trying to smile.

"There you are," Josh said, not smiling.

"We were just having breakfast," Audrey said. "Come join us."

But Josh shook his head, looking back at her. "No, thank you. I'm not hungry."

"Joshie!" Grammy said and pushed past Drake to embrace her grandson.

"Hey, Grammy," Josh said and smiled against her shoulder.

Grammy pulled away and held Josh at arms' length, inspecting him. "You look wiped," she said, reaching up to brush her fingers through the dark fringe on his forehead.

Josh gave her a lopsided smile. "It's been a long night," he said, flicking his eyes at Drake before focusing them back on his grandmother.

She cupped his cheek in her hand. "Come in," she said. "Sit down. Eat something."

But Josh shook his head again. "I can't, Grammy. Really. But thanks."

Grammy let her hand slip from his cheek. "Okay," she said and nodded. "I'll see you later, though?"

"Sure," Josh said, smiling. "I'll take you to Inside-Out Burger and buy you a kid's meal."

Grammy laughed. "It's a date," she said, then disappeared inside, taking Audrey with her and shutting the door.

Josh turned his attention back to Drake, meeting his eyes. "I need to talk to you."

Drake felt his throat tighten. "I know," he said.

"Wanna go somewhere?"

"Sure." Drake would go anywhere with Josh. "Where'd you have in mind?"

Josh turned his gaze towards the house and Drake saw his eyes shift, like he was looking at something far away. "Anywhere," Josh finally said, turning back to Drake. "Anywhere but here."

Drake nodded. "Let's go, then," he said. "You drive." He followed Josh down the front walk to his car, which was parked on the street.

* * *

They'd both ordered omelets, though neither of them were hungry, because they felt bad about taking up a booth in a busy breakfast spot and ordering only coffee. The food currently sat congealing on the table in front of them. Drake spun his coffee mug around and around with his fingertips as he stared intently into the brown liquid.

So far, they'd managed to speak less than ten words to each other since they'd pulled away from the curb at their parents' house and most of those had been taken up with, "This place okay with you?"/"Yeah. Fine."

This, Drake thought, was the hardest part. The not talking. The not knowing what to say. They had never really been at a loss for words with each other before; even as kids, when they hadn't been speaking to each other, they had spoken more than this.

He couldn't take it anymore. "I slept with Mindy's cousin," he blurted out, then immediately wished he hadn't. Why was it lately when he spoke to Josh, it always seemed to turn into a scene from _True Confessions_?

Josh stared across the table at him. "Which one? She's got a lot of them."

"Maura," Drake said, feeling a blush creep up his neck. "The maid of honor."

"I know who Maura is," Josh snapped, then pressed his lips together and stared down into his cup.

A moment passed, then another, and Drake counted his breaths until Josh spoke again. He decided he should just let Josh do all the talking from now on. God knows he wasn't very good at it.

Finally, Josh asked, "When?"

"When what?"

Josh met Drake's eyes. "When did you sleep with her?"

Drake paused before answering, debating whether he should lie. If he said a week ago – two days ago, even – it wouldn't make him look so bad. But he didn't want to lie, especially to Josh. So he settled on the truth. "Yesterday," he said. "After the wedding."

Josh looked away, out the window into the parking lot, and Drake saw him nod slowly in comprehension.

"I'm sorry," Drake said.

"Don't be," Josh said, slowly turning back to him. "You don't need my permission to have sex."

Drake flinched slightly at that. "I didn't mean for it to happen."

"You never do, do you?" Josh took a breath, let it out. "It doesn't matter."

"Josh," Drake said, sliding his hand across the table a little, stopping it just past his discarded plate.

"What do you want me to say, Drake?" Josh asked, sudden heat in his voice. "That I forgive you?"

"Yes," Drake whispered and drew his hand back. "But not for that."

Josh stared at him and Drake just listened to him breathe, watched the rise and fall of his chest beneath his blue and white striped golf shirt. He noticed again just how tired his brother looked.

"I haven't slept," Josh said, as if reading his mind.

Drake didn't say anything for a moment, then said softly, "What I said yesterday..."

Josh closed his eyes as he shook his head, holding up his hand to cut Drake off. After a moment, he opened them again and Drake could see a storm raging behind them. He had to clench his fists to keep from leaning across and touching Josh's cheek.

"Josh–" Drake began.

"Let's get out of here," Josh said, cutting him off. "The grease smell is making me nauseous." He stood up and fished out a twenty from his wallet, dropping it on the table between the uneaten omelets.

* * *

They sat on the edge of the stage at the outdoor amphitheater in the park three blocks from their old high school. They had gone to see a play there once – some dreadful rendition of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet _where the two leads were both played by men ("Just like it was performed in Shakespeare's day," the director had touted beforehand). Drake and Josh had sat along the top row and Drake had managed to shine the laser light he kept on his keychain down onto the stage the whole time without getting caught. They had laughed all the way home.

Now, the stage was empty and weeds were growing up between the cracks in the concrete. Drake picked at a clump near his right foot and waited for Josh to say something.

"I got your message," Josh finally said.

"Yeah?" Drake said, trying to sound casual.

"I'm sorry I didn't answer," Josh interrupted, looking over at him.

"It's okay. It was late. Besides, it wasn't like I was expecting you to wait by the phone." But, of course, that was exactly what he'd expected.

"I wanted to talk to you," Josh said, his voice sounding strained. "But I couldn't."

"It's okay," Drake said again. "Really."

But that seemed to be the wrong thing to say because Josh abruptly stood up and walked a few feet away, deeper onto the stage. Drake watched him, not moving, barely breathing. He felt like something was coming. Something big. But he couldn't put his finger on it.

"No, Drake," Josh said, turning to face him. "It's not okay." There were tears in his eyes and Drake could see he was trying to hold them back because his chin was trembling. "I…I don't know if it ever will be again."

Drake stood then, on shaky knees, and faced Josh. "This," he said, motioning between the two of them, "is _my_ fault. If I had just kept my fucking mouth shut, none of this–"

"All I ever wanted was for you to love me back."

"What?" Drake asked, breathless, because he didn't know what else to say.

"When we were kids," Josh said, and Drake saw his hands ball into fists at his sides. "That's all I ever wanted."

"Josh…" Drake said and swallowed. He opened his mouth to say something else, but no words came out.

"I told myself it was just brotherly affection. But it was more than that," Josh said, wiping at his eyes. "It always had been. It just took me a while to finally admit it to myself."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Drake asked, feeling his heart thump against his ribs. If he had…well, a lot of things might've been different.

Josh shook his head sadly. "When, Drake? When was I supposed to tell you? Between girlfriends? In passing? 'Hey Drake, could you bring me a Mocha Cola and by the way, I'm in love with you?' " He breathed out. "It would've ruined everything and I didn't want to risk that."

"Why not?" Drake asked. "I did."

Josh smiled thinly. "You're braver than I am."

"No," Drake said. "Not braver, Josh. Just slower."

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment, then Josh asked, "When?"

Drake gave him a puzzled look.

"When did you know…?" Josh couldn't seem to finish, but the rest of the question hung in the air between them.

_When did you know you loved me like that?_

"I think I've always known," Drake said, trying to smile. "But last week…when you showed me that stupid song. That's when I knew for sure."

Josh's eyes filled again as he nodded. "Your timing is lousy, you know that?" He smiled, but it was brittle and crumbled away.

"Yeah," Drake said. "Tell me something I don't know." Something – a combination of dread and déjà vu – twisted deep inside him at the words and his chest suddenly ached.

"And now it's too late," Josh whispered hoarsely.

The way Josh looked at him then made Drake want to look away, but he couldn't. "No," he said and took a step towards Josh, reaching for him. He wanted to touch him, to feel the solidness of him beneath his palms, to know he was really there. "Don't say that. We–"

"I married her, Drake," Josh said. "Last night. In Las Vegas."

Drake felt the blood drain from his face, felt his hands go cold. "What?" The word was barely more than a breath, a movement of his lips.

"We drove all night," Josh told him, his soft voice carrying under the decaying stage roof. "Five hours each way. That's why I couldn't answer my phone."

Drake shook his head, holding up his hands like he was trying to shield himself from what Josh was telling him. "No..."

"I made a promise to her, Drake," Josh said, the words choked, his eyes pleading with Drake to understand.

"A promise…" Drake said, feeling suddenly light-headed. He didn't want to hear the rest, wanted to turn around and run away, but his legs wouldn't work.

He felt suddenly hollow inside, like he would crumble to the ground in a heap of dust at the slightest pressure. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it again. Tears sprang to his eyes and he looked up, blinking to keep them from falling. He stared at the high ceiling – at the rotting wood beams and the cracked light fixtures – and thought, _The perfect place for a tragedy._

Then he laughed.

"Drake?"

After a moment, Drake met Josh's eyes and saw tears in them. His own were nearly dry now. " 'The End'," he whispered.

He could almost hear the applause.

* * *

Just to be clear...this isn't the end! Stay tuned.

_Please review. Thanks!_


	8. Time Heals

**Title:** The Best Man  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** T/PG-13  
**Warnings:** bad words, slash  
**Pairings:** Josh/Mindy, Drake/Josh

**Author's Note:** For the purpose of this chapter, I had to change one tiny detail from a previous chapter. In chapter 3, I said Drake's Mustang was rented, but I changed it here so that he owned it. Also, there's a small nod to my online friend, GMTH. I hope you catch it and that it makes you smile.

* * *

Chapter 8: Time Heals

Two minutes After Josh, as he would later refer to it, Drake walked away. He had to, because really, after everything, he just couldn't stand there any longer. So he turned around and put one foot in front of the other and didn't look back – and hated Josh just a little for not coming after him.

* * *

Ten hours After Josh, he climbed the ladder to Robbie's old tree house, which wasn't Robbie's anymore since his family moved away. It now belonged to a little girl named Pamela with bouncy brown curls and a healthy tween obsession for the latest teen idols. She'd redecorated the tree house in her own unique style and Drake found himself staring at the smiling faces of pretty boy gajillionaires in the growing darkness as he cried about Josh and tried not to think about how, once upon a time, he and Josh had been trapped together in this place; how maybe, _maybe _if he'd been smart enough, he would've seen the truth way back then and things would've been so different. But it was too late for maybes; Josh was home with his wife and Drake…well, Drake was left with nothing.

In the end, the only tears he had left were the ones still drying on his face.

* * *

Twelve hours After Josh, Drake went home – or rather, to his parents' house since it no longer felt like home to him, not without Josh. He climbed the stairs to his old room – _their_ old room – and stuffed what clothes he could find into his worn-out duffel, grabbed his guitar off its stand by his old loft bed, and barely noticed that Aunt Katherine was gone.

He ran into Megan in the upstairs hall as he was leaving and even in the moonlight streaming in from her open bedroom doorway, he could see in her eyes that she knew. He shook his head and said, "I can't stay," around the tightness in his throat. She nodded and said, "Call me, okay?" and touched his arm with a tenderness that nearly made him cry again.

* * *

Thirteen and a half hours After Josh, Drake walked through the front door of the small three bedroom house he shared with his two bandmates in Escondido, which, when he moved out here, had seemed far enough away from San Diego to feel like he was on his own, but now didn't seem far enough away. The glow of the television in Brian's room spilled into the hallway, and when he passed Brian's open doorway on his way to his own room, he was stopped by the sound of a groggy voice asking, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"It's over," Drake answered simply without meeting his eyes, then walked to his room without another word and locked the door behind him, where he slept through all of the next day and halfway through the next.

* * *

Six days After Josh, he felt himself getting tugged off his bed by his ankles, where he landed with a heavy thud on the carpet.

"What the fuck?" he asked angrily, glaring through narrowed eyes at Johnny, the bass player, who stood looking down at him with an expression that was a mix of concern and amusement.

Johnny said, "You haven't left this room in a week, man."

"What's it to you?" Drake asked, sitting up and leaning against the foot of the bed, the blankets twisted around him.

"Well, for one, I'm sick of bringing food to you. Do I look like fuckin' Room Service?"

Drake looked up at him and squinted. "Maybe if you had a little hat…"

"Fuck you," Johnny said, but he was smiling a little, and he nudged Drake's foot with his toe. "What's wrong with you?"

Drake clenched his teeth. "Nothing," he said, leaning his head back against the bed and closing his eyes.

"Sure. 'Cause you always sleep for an entire week in your clothes," Johnny said. Then he laughed. "Which, by the way, should probably be burned."

Drake opened his eyes and looked down at himself, plucking his black t-shirt between his fingers, his eyes suddenly burning. "You're right," he said, peeling it off and throwing it at Johnny. "Go ahead."

Johnny caught the shirt out of the air, looked at it, and looked back at Drake. He opened his mouth to say something, but didn't, then tossed the shirt into the overflowing laundry basket in the corner and left the room, shaking his head.

An hour later, Drake walked into the kitchen, clean shaven and showered, and, without a word to Brian and Johnny, who were staring at him open-mouthed, began digging around under the sink.

"Whatcha lookin' for?" Brian asked.

"Garbage bags," Drake said, standing up.

"We're out," said Johnny. "They're on the list."

"Fuck," Drake said and walked out of the kitchen.

"Whaddya need 'em for?" Brian called to Drake's retreating back.

Drake didn't answer. No garbage bags? No problem. He was a musician; he could improvise.

* * *

Six days and seven hours After Josh, Drake stood next to the barbecue pit in the backyard, holding a box of wooden matches in his left hand.

"Are you sure about this, man?" Johnny asked next to him.

"I'm sure," Drake said, not looking at him, but he hated that his voice sounded anything but sure.

"But, this is, like, half your stuff," Brian said.

"Yeah, well," Drake said softly to himself, "it's time for new stuff." Then he slid open the box of matches and pulled three out, closing the box and striking them simultaneously. The sharp _fffft_ of the flames coming to life cut through the silence and Drake stared at them for a couple seconds before tossing them onto the pile.

It took a few seconds for the fire to catch, but the nearly full bottle of lighter fluid Drake had poured onto the pile assured its eventual success, and then the fire spread steadily, eventually engulfing the whole pile in a wild array of yellow-orange flames.

The other two eventually drifted back into the house, but Drake watched until the fire burned itself out, until there was nothing left but ashes and a few unrecognizable fragments. Then he lowered his head, let himself cry a little, and said goodbye.

Everything that reminded him of Josh, up in smoke.

Well, almost everything. Too bad he couldn't burn his memories.

* * *

Three weeks After Josh, Drake went to Toledo, where he and his band played their best to a meager crowd of 1500 in the growing chill of an approaching northern autumn. He met a girl named Gina with a nice smile who helped him discover he could still smile, too, and mean it. After a few hours with her, he almost forgot his heart was broken.

* * *

Six weeks After Josh, Drake told Brian and Johnny he needed a change of scenery, and after watching him for the last six weeks, he knew they understood. So he told Luke to look after the guys, then sold the Mustang and moved to Boston for no other reason than it was far away and he'd always wanted to go.

As it turned out, Boston had a decent music scene, and he grew a goatee and started writing angry songs about love that got him noticed. A guy named Rick put his face on the cover of a local independent magazine about up-and-coming artists.

He slept on the sofas of various acquaintances and ate ramen noodles straight from the package and struggled over chord combinations while waiting for his clothes to dry in an all-night laundromat three blocks from Fenway Park.

* * *

Eight weeks After Josh, he got his own place – a tiny room in a big house in Dorchester Heights owned by a vegan couple who grew organic vegetables in the backyard and performed what they called, "Living Poetry," which basically was just the husband playing the bongos while his wife spouted lines about pollution and the excesses of government. They were a little kooky, but they were nice and they didn't ask him too many questions, which suited him just fine.

* * *

Ten weeks After Josh, it was Thanksgiving and he called his parents collect from one of the few still-functioning payphones left in South Boston. It was the first time he'd called since he'd fled San Diego. There had been calls to his house in Escondido the first few weeks, but he'd never returned them. When his cell phone died, he never recharged it and eventually had it shut off completely.

He held his breath as he listened to the phone ring in his ear. Maybe they wouldn't want to talk to him.

"Drake?" He heard the undisguised relief in his mom's voice.

"Yeah, Mom. It's me." He didn't think it would, but the sound of his mother's voice made his knees weak.

"Oh, honey. We've been so worried," she said.

"I know," he said. "I'm sorry."

"How are you?"

He looked out through the scratched Plexiglas of the phone booth at the beautiful city around him and thought about his answer. Finally, he said, "I'm okay."

He heard her sigh and could picture her in his mind – eyes closed, fingers pressed to her lips. "We drove to Escondido three weeks ago," she said after a moment. "You wouldn't answer our calls, so we went to see you."

"I moved from there a month ago," he said.

"You could've told us," she said, and he could hear the hurt in her voice.

"It was just something I had to do," he told her.

"Your friends said they didn't know where you'd gone."

"They didn't. When I left, _I_ wasn't even sure where I'd end up."

A moment passed, then, "Honey, where are you?"

"Boston."

"Boston," she repeated. "Oh." She took a breath. "Oh," she said again and he could hear the truth of it sinking in.

"Don't worry about me, Mom. I'm doing okay." Then he added for her benefit, "I'm happy." It wasn't quite the truth, but it was one lie he knew his mom would want to hear.

"Okay," she said. She didn't sound convinced, but she seemed to be trying.

"I just called to say Happy Thanksgiving," he said. "I'm gonna miss your mashed potatoes."

She laughed, but there were tears in it. "Yeah, well, we're having dinner at your brother's this year. Mindy's doing all the cooking."

Her words stole his breath and he doubled over a little, like someone had just punched him in the gut. He couldn't speak.

"Drake? You still there?"

"I've gotta go, Mom," he finally managed.

"No, wait. Megan wants to talk to you."

"Tell her I'll call her," he said and pulled the phone from his ear.

"When?" he heard her say through the phone right before he hung up.

He rested his forehead against the phone and closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to recede. This, he thought. This is why he hadn't called. It hurt too much, even now. Even after so much time. But really, it hadn't been _that_ long. Not nearly long enough.

When he stepped out of the phone booth, he pulled his thin coat closer around him. It was his first winter here and he wasn't used to the cold. When he'd first moved here, he'd asked someone about the snow. They'd told him it didn't really start snowing until mid-December.

But as he walked back to his house, the first tentative snowflakes of winter began to fall.

* * *

Three and a half months After Josh, it was Christmas, and Drake was alone. His landlords and housemates had all gone to visit family and instead of ambling around the big, empty house all by himself, he put on his winter coat and trudged through the snow to the diner two blocks away, where several other lost souls sat alone with their thoughts. Sitting at the counter, he ordered a bowl of clam chowder and a cup of coffee and scribbled a song about heartbreak on a paper napkin.

He didn't call home.

* * *

Three months and three weeks After Josh, Drake was at a New Year's Eve party, drinking two dollar beer and watching the ball drop in Times Square on a tiny TV in a crowded living room. He snuck out right after and climbed the stairs to the roof, where he watched the fireworks being launched from a barge in the Harbor and realized this was the first New Year's since he was twelve years old that he hadn't been kissed.

* * *

Four and a half months After Josh, he slept with a guy named Mike he met at a birthday party for a friend of a friend and cried in the bathroom afterwards. He later told himself it was the beer that had drawn him to the guy, but the truth was, he'd reminded him of Josh – black hair, hazel eyes, and an easy smile that made his heart ache. He channeled his guilt into another song – this one about the lingering pain of memories.

Two weeks later, it brought tears to the eyes of every sorority sister present during Greek Night at one of the local clubs.

* * *

Six months and two days After Josh, he won a fans' choice award for Favorite Individual Artist at a local music festival and still, despite everything, his first inclination was to tell Josh.

* * *

Eight months After Josh, the constant dull ache that had taken up residence in his chest one second After Josh and had remained ever since had finally started to diminish, until one day he woke up and didn't feel it at all.

* * *

Eleven months After Josh, his song, "After the Fall," was getting airtime on a couple local radio stations. So okay, it was getting played mainly during times when only insomniacs and third shift workers were likely to hear it, but it was a start. And the important thing was he had done it on his own. He had managed to take his pain and turn into something beautiful. He'd walked through fire and had come out the other side unscathed.

Well, almost. He _had_ changed. He was harder now, a little less quick to trust. But he was stronger, too, and maybe even a little wiser. He'd earned that wisdom the hard way, but he was grateful for the lesson.

* * *

A year After Josh, he walked through the front door of the big Victorian where he lived and found Josh sitting on the sofa in the living room.

His first thought was that he must be hallucinating; he used to think he saw Josh everywhere. But then Josh stood up and the floor squeaked in the exact spot it always did and Drake thought maybe he wasn't hallucinating after all.

Then Josh spoke and Drake knew for sure that Josh was really there. "I can't believe I found you," he said, and the fragile smile he offered still had the power to make Drake's heart ache. "I've been looking for a week."

And suddenly, it was like the last twelve months had never happened, and they were once again standing on that stage back in San Diego where Josh had broken Drake's heart.

He was determined not to crumble this time. He didn't think he could survive it.

* * *

_What did you think? Please let me know by leaving a review. Thank you._


	9. Residual Damages

**Title:** The Best Man  
**Author:** GatorGrrrl  
**Rating:** T/PG-13  
**Warnings:** bad words, slash  
**Pairings:** Josh/Mindy, Drake/Josh

**Author's Note:** Okay, this chapter is basically one long conversation. And by the way...seven pages of dialogue? Not as easy as it sounds. Sigh. I'm pooped. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 9: Residual Damages

The room was oppressively quiet. Drake could hear the thump of his heart against his ribs and the sound of his own breathing. He watched as Josh took a tentative step towards him.

"Your landlady was on her way out when I rang the bell. She said I could wait here for you," Josh said.

"Remind me to thank her later," Drake said, deadpan. Those were the first words he'd spoken since he walked in.

"She seemed nice," Josh said. "A little odd, maybe, but nice. She seemed to really like you."

"What do you want?" Drake asked him bluntly.

Josh seemed taken aback because it took him a moment to answer. "I wanted to see you," he finally said. "It's been a long time."

"One year, four days, and – " Drake looked at the big brass antique clock on the mantel and did a quick calculation "–three hours," he said, looking back at Josh. "But who's counting." He held Josh's gaze and tried to tell himself that the burning in his gut was from the four cups of coffee he'd had that morning.

Josh opened his mouth, then closed it again, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Boston's bigger than I thought," he said.

"Not if you live here," Drake said. "It feels more like a small town."

"The weather's nice," Josh said, smiling a little. "I thought it would be hotter."

"Is this what we're doing?" Drake asked, irritated. He seemed frozen to his spot in the entryway; he couldn't retreat, couldn't advance. He was trapped in No Man's Land.

"What?"

"You didn't come all this way to talk about the weather, did you? Your father's a fucking weather man, for Christ's sake." _Your father._ Like Walter wasn't related to him at all.

"Drake–"

"How's your wife?"

Drake watched Josh's face change at that, watched his small smile dissolve, and felt a tiny flicker of satisfaction spark inside his chest.

Josh pressed his lips together and breathed out through his nose, meeting Drake's gaze with darkened eyes. "Not my wife anymore."

Drake had to make a conscious effort not to clench his hands into fists. "Since when?" he asked quietly.

Josh's gaze didn't waver. "Officially? Since a week ago. We signed the papers the day before I left to come here," he said.

Drake just stared at him. "Is that all?" he asked after a moment.

Josh's brow furrowed. "Is what all?"

"Is that all you came to tell me? 'Cause if it is, you can go," Drake said.

Josh chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I was hoping…" he finally said, taking another step towards Drake. He held his hands open in front of him, then let them fall to his sides. "I was hoping we could talk."

"We are talking. The weather, remember? It's not as hot as you expected." Drake didn't want to do this, didn't want to be standing here. He felt his hard-won resolve slipping slowly away. "There's nothing left to talk about," he said, his voice softer.

"What about you and me?" Josh asked. "What about us?"

"Us?" Drake asked, incredulous. "There is no us, Josh. You made sure of that."

"Drake, I…" Josh said, shaking his head slightly. "I know you're angry."

Drake made an effort to look nonchalant, crossing his arms casually over his chest. "I'm not angry, Josh," he said, keeping his voice even. "Not anymore. Now I'm indifferent."

"Indifferent."

"Yeah," Drake said. "It means I don't give a shit."

Josh just looked at him. "I know what it means."

"Of course you do. You know everything. Up to and including how to fuck me over." Drake felt a muscle twitch in his jaw and dug his fingers into his arms. Okay, so maybe he wasn't so indifferent after all.

He watched Josh watch him, saw the rise and fall of Josh's chest, saw the fingers of his left hand spasm against his thigh. Then Josh said, "I know I hurt you."

Drake felt the sting of tears behind his eyes and gritted his teeth against it. "Hurt me? You cut me open while I was still breathing and ripped my fucking heart out," he said angrily. "But I'm okay now. Thanks for asking."

Josh just stared at him. "I'm sorry." The words were barely audible, even in the quiet stillness of the room.

"That's nice. Me, too. I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing."

Josh looked beseechingly at him. "I don't know what else to tell you," he said.

Drake should just walk away right now, should just turn around and leave this scene behind, but he couldn't. Because there was one thing he had to know; it was the one thing he never understood. "Tell me why," he said.

"Why what?"

Drake swallowed. "Why you married her." He'd asked Josh that a thousand times in his dreams and had never gotten an answer. He wanted one now.

Josh just looked at him. "I promised her."

"You promised her. That's it?" Drake's face flushed with anger. He'd waited a year for _that_? "That's what you said a year ago, Josh. And it's still not good enough." He let his arms drop to his sides. "You promised her," he said again, shaking his head. "You also promised her 'til death do us part, but you sure as hell fucking broke that one."

"Drake," Josh said. "I know that's not good enough. But I don't know how to explain it to you so you'll understand."

"Try using small words. Short sentences," Drake spat. "I'll do my best to keep up."

"That's not what I meant–"

"I told you I loved you," Drake said, cutting him off. His voice sounded hoarse and he cursed himself for it.

"I know."

"And you married her anyway."

"Yes."

"Fuck you." He'd never said that to Josh before and saying it now…well, it didn't feel as good as he'd hoped it would. His eyes welled – _dammit_ – and he looked away. He wanted to run up to his room and lock the door, wanted to shut him out, but he was tired of running.

"She was perfect for me, you know?" he heard Josh say. "Or she should've been."

Drake looked back at him. "There's no such thing as perfect, Josh," he said. "Just varying degrees of almost."

They looked at each other in silence for a long time, the seconds piling up like stones between them. "She finally asked me," Josh said.

"Asked you what?"

"If I was in love with you."

Drake just looked at him.

"That's what finally ended it," Josh said. When Drake didn't say anything, he continued. "We were arguing." He sighed. "We were always arguing. Your name came up and she just came right out and asked me. So I told her."

"What did she say?"

Josh smiled slightly. "She said, 'I knew it.' "

Drake just stared at him for a moment, then turned and leaned his back against the entryway, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. He suddenly felt exhausted.

"I still love you."

Drake squeezed his eyes shut at the words. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Uh-uh." He opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Josh. "You don't get to say that to me. Not anymore."

"Drake…"

Drake pushed away from the wall, the beginnings of self-righteous anger buzzing beneath his skin. He thought he'd finally managed to tuck it all away for good, but apparently it had just been hiding right beneath the surface. "You have no idea what I've gone through," he said, hot tears stinging his eyes. _Fuck it_, he thought. _Let 'em fall. _"I loved you, Josh. More than I've ever loved anyone. And God, I know how 'Movie of the Week' that sounds. But it's the truth. When you told me you were married, it was like a knife twisted in my heart. And it fucking hurt. And everyday I walked around with it." The tears finally spilled over and he wiped angrily at them. "I burned everything I had that reminded me of you. I moved 3,000 miles away so I wouldn't have to see you anymore." He stopped and took a breath. When he spoke again, the anger was gone from his voice. "It's taken me a year to get here. To get to the point where I can think about you and still breathe." He took another breath and let it out, watching Josh, who was looking back at him with wide, shining eyes. He ran his hand across his eyes again. "I've made a life for myself here," he continued. "It may not be the one I wanted, but it's mine. Without you."

Josh looked down then and Drake heard him sniffle, saw him wipe at his eyes. When he looked up again, his eyes were red. "Everyday," he said, "I've had to live with the fact that I let you walk away." He shook his head. "That day at the church, I should've told you I loved you."

Drake's chest ached with the words. "Why didn't you?"

"I was scared, Drake," Josh said, frustrated. "Since the first day I moved into your room all those years ago, you've thrown my life off-balance. You're like a force of nature, changing everything around you. But Mindy…" He sighed. "Mindy was safe. I always knew where I stood with her. I was always on solid ground. And that day in the park, when you walked away for good, I took it as proof that I'd made the right decision. Because I knew _she _would never leave me."

"That's not fair," Drake whispered. "You left me first."

Josh nodded. "Yeah, but I couldn't let myself see it that way, don't you see? I had to have _something_ to blame you for. If only he'd stayed, I told myself, things would've worked out. He would've convinced me the impossible could happen, like always. But he didn't care enough to stay, so see?, I'm better off without him." He laughed, but it was a sad sound. "Only I wasn't. And in the end, Mindy left me, too." He walked over to Drake until he was within arm's reach; Drake could feel his body heat. It was the closest they'd been to each other since that day in the park. "I've always loved you, Drake. Always. Even when I thought you'd never love me back."

Drake closed his eyes and lowered his head. "It shouldn't be this hard," he said. It would be so easy to let Josh hold him right now, to listen to him say it'll be alright. It would be so easy to allow himself to believe it, too. But he couldn't let go of a year of pain that easily; the memories of it were still too fresh. He looked up, shook his head. "I can't do this again, Josh. I won't. It hurts too much."

But Josh was shaking his head. "It's different this time, Drake," he said, gripping Drake's shoulders. "This time, there's nothing in the way. It's just us. It's just me asking you to give me another chance. Please."

"Josh. Don't do this." Josh's hands felt like they were burning him.

Josh held his gaze without blinking. "Tell me you don't love me," he said, a note of urgency in his voice. "Tell me that and I'll leave you to your life."

"That's just it," Drake whispered. "I _do _love you." He shook his head and looked into those hazel eyes he loved so much. "I just wish I didn't."

The blood drained from Josh's face and Drake saw his lips begin to tremble. "I see," Josh whispered, letting his hands fall away. "Okay."

This time, it was Josh's turn to walk away.

* * *

Josh was halfway down the front walk when Drake opened the front door. He watched Josh's retreating back and felt like he was standing on the edge of an abyss; one false move and everything would end. His hands shook with uncertainty and he pressed them firmly against his sides.

He took a breath and then took a leap; after all, he'd always been one for taking chances. "So I guess I'm supposed to tell myself he didn't care enough to stay," he called around the lump in his throat.

Josh stopped in his tracks at the foot of the walkway, his back to Drake, and Drake saw his shoulders slump, saw his head droop. After a moment, he raised it again and turned his face slightly towards Drake. "Don't bother," he said over his shoulder, his voice rough. "It doesn't work."

Drake looked at Josh's profile and felt something shift inside him, felt something that had been missing slide into place. "I don't really know how to do this," he said. He was scared as hell and wasn't sure about any of it, really, except for one thing: He couldn't just let Josh walk away.

Josh turned around then and met Drake's eyes and for a moment, it was almost like it used to be, before everything fell apart. "Me, neither," he said and smiled. "But I'm willing to learn, if you are."

Drake just smiled back.

THE END

* * *

_Please review (even if it's to tell me how schmaltzy the ending was). Thanks!_

_On to the sequel, "Pieces of You and Me"..._


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